Alone With My Head
by IHeartProngs22
Summary: **Currently under construction** Too much blood was shed, too many deaths to have watched. Someone help me. I can't handle this by myself. --Dark!Harry-- H/HR-nods to. Warning: Violence, Abuse, Torture. R&R Please
1. The Chosen One

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Harry Potter universe. Nor will I ever. All the characters belong to J.K Rowling.

**A/N: **Thanks to my BETA: lia2390. Please R&R guys! I'd update faster!  
**A/N (June 16):** I updated this chapter. I overused the word 'boy' a lot, but hopefully I did the right amount of tweaking to make it better!

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A lone figure lay with his back on the floor, his eyes closed. Ghostly pale skin, hair covering the eyes, far too thin to be healthy, these describe this boy, this man. He was in pain, much, much pain. He didn't want to live, to feel this, to feel anything. He doesn't deserve this. Too many deaths, too many from the good side. They were gaining power, these people - no these things - for someone who could do so much harm, murder so many, torture innocent, they couldn't be human, could they?

But then, then he would remember, they have sons, and daughters, and they are mothers, and they are fathers. They are people. Different, yes, in the mind, but still, all the same, people.

_You too, have killed boy. Remember? You killed Quirrell, you brought him to dust. The basilisk, remember the Chamber? What about the diary? You killed it. _

Too much blood was shed, too many deaths to have watched. Someone help me. I can't handle this by myself.

_Not a letter yet. There's no Dumbledore to tell them not to anymore, boy. Why would they stop sending them? Wouldn't they realize you need them? No. None have come, boy. They have forgotten you. They have deserted you. Revenge, boy. You were always there for them, but now, now they have left you. Get your revenge, boy. _

No, no, I can't... My friends..

_Why no letters then, boy. Surely they would think about you, surely they would want to know if you were OK... _If_ they were your friends. You would, wouldn't you. If you were in their places. Wouldn't you._

Of course... But... But they're...Busy.

_Forget them. They don't respect you. He, the ginger one, is jealous. _

No, no, he isn't.. not anymore, he's gotten over it.

_Has he really? The truth. You know the truth, boy, don't lie. Of course he is. You know how he acts. Think, boy. Remember._

Stop it! No, no, you're wrong!

--

Blood. Trickling down his back, smearing across his face. Hand clutches a side, where the red is stained most. It feels, almost, peaceful. He will rest now. Blackness bestows him.

He awakens. Pain finds him, and he screams. The sound of torture and neglect.

He remembers his uncle, shouting. "Freak!", "Keep away from my family!", "How dare treat me this way_? _I have kept you, you..FREAK, under my roof!"

_Revenge. Kill him. He doesn't respect you._

No one respects me.

_I do. I know your powers. You are strong._

Yes. I am strong. I am not a child.

_Good, boy. Good._

--

Revenge. As the days pass, he stays in his room. If possible, after Vernon leaves for work, and Dudley goes to school, his aunt would toss food through the cat flap. Rarely, though. She was too scared.

_Pathetic. _

Vernon checked up on his aunt quiet often. After finding her drop a piece of bread through the slot, he got mad, using the stunned onlookers as a means of relieving himself of it. Petunia was ordered to stay in her bedroom for the entire day.

_Kill him._

She didn't bring him food anymore.

He got used to it though. His body evolved. He no longer felt the hunger in his stomach. Or he ignored it.

He hated his uncle. One day... One day he would get him back for everything he's done.

_Get your revenge, boy._

I will.

--

The voice. Such a voice, that if he had heard it some time ago, he would have feared, but now, he only felt comfort. He knew him. They were of one now. Together they could conquer. Two minds are better than one right?

_Yes._

--

Scars. Many, many scars. He ached all over, but knew he had to endure these in order to get stronger.

_We must not be weak. _

I am not weak.

_In ways you are. But I will help you. _

Teach me.

_Soon._


	2. In the Dark of My Nightmares

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait guys… I'm just lazy... :D**

**Please keep R&R-ing!**

**Regular disclaimer applies yada yada I don't own Harry Potter and Co. **

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"We had to stun him, he was out of hand, Kingsley!"  
"He kept kicking and punching, I didn't know what was wrong!"

Many shouts were heard coming from members of the Advanced Guard that had gone and taken Harry from his uncle's.

"'Arry! You're here!" came the deep voice of Rubeus Hagrid, now squeezing in through the kitchen door. He hadn't been to pick Harry up. "'Arry! Eh? 'arry, you there?" Hagrid was trying to talk to his friend. Rounding the table, he looked at the boy's face, to see his eyes closed. "What's wrong with 'arry? Why isn't 'e awake?" screamed Hagrid. What have ya' done with my boy?"

"We had to stun him Hagrid, something… Something's wrong with him!"

--

Footsteps. All around him, he heard them. Rushing about, and he heard voices as well, but he couldn't make out whole sentences. He heard his name mentioned many times, a thought that for some reason angered him.

_Talking about you behind your back, boy. _

Only snitches could be heard.

'…Harry…"

"...Should have seen his eyes..."

"…Punched me…"

"…Here, wanna see the bruise?.."

"…What do you thi-- did you see that? He's opening his eyes!"

Lifting his head, he saw that he was lying on a couch. Heaving himself up, so that he was sitting, he looked around at the Order Members. All eyes were on him, and he glared right back.

"'Arry, you're awake!" came the voice of Hagrid.

Without responding, Harry slowly turned around, looked at the gamekeeper for a fleeting moment, then stood up and began walking, right past his giant of a friend to the door leading out of the kitchen.

_Leave them, boy. _

Walking upstairs, he heard footsteps behind him, but he didn't turn around. Turning a corner, he walked into the loo. Without bothering to close the door, he retched into the toilet. Again, and again. "Harry!" Standing at the door was Remus. Running in, he kept asking "Are you alright? Are you alright?" Harry wasn't alright. Soon, others were by his side.

Feeling lightheaded, he fell against the wall. Everything was swarming in and out, his vision fading. He heard voices. Order members were calling his name, but so was Voldemort.

_Come, boy, come on. _

He heard the cries of Hermione, she was here?

_Come on, boy. Don't listen to them._

Hermione, she was here, she was calling him. "Harry! Please, Harry! Come back to me! Harry, please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Harry!"

_Filthy mudblood. _

Don't call her that.

_She is what she is, boy._

Don't. Call. Her. That.

_Shut up, boy. You do not tell me what to do. _

Go away!

_I am already apart of you. You have let me in too far!_

No! "Hermione!"

Everything went black_._

_--_

Dizziness. It overwhelmed him as he awoke. Leaning over, he retched onto the floor. He opened his eyes and tried to look around, but found he couldn't make out a thing. He grabbed his glasses that lay on the bedside table.

He saw pictures of happy couples and friends. A teenage girl had her arms wrapped around a boy, their hair red and black respectively. The other pictures included these two, along with what looked to be their friends.

He was choking; his insides were tearing, screaming with this intolerable pain. He didn't know what he was doing. He knelt down. Laying on the floor flat out, he closed his eyes.

_Control yourself._

Deep breathing. In. Out.

He got up, closing the door behind him. He did not turn back.

--

Standing in front of the kitchen door. He didn't want to go in. Peeking through the window, he watched them. Laughing. Smiling.

_They are happy without you, boy. They don't want you. They don't need you. _

I've only ever wanted them to be happy.

_Then leave them, boy. _

Sliding against the wall, Harry rested his head in his hands, his legs tucked between his arms. He just sat there. The kitchen door opened, and out walked Remus.  
"Harry?" his old professor uttered. "I was just heading up to check on you."

Not saying a word, Harry didn't give any notice that he knew Remus was there.

"Harry?" Remus was obviously worried.

"Are you… Alright?"

He made his decision. He looked up.

"Sorry, I'm just… Tired."

Rising from his position on the floor, he stood up, swaying a little from this sudden movement, and walked toward the stairs. Looking back only once, he saw to his relief, that his old professor had believed him, and had gone back inside. Was the tug on his stomach something that resembled guilt? Was he ashamed? Perhaps.

--

Now in his room, one he no longer shared with Ron, he collapsed onto his bed, suddenly exhausted, every amount of energy gone.

Laughter. Cold, mirthless laughter that echoed around the stone room. Vibrating off the walls, hitting him like a piercing to the heart. His breathing was ragged. His mind a mess. Pain enveloped him.

Then, suddenly, he was across the room. He looked down, and before him laid a body. It was breathing, wheezing. Blood was pooled around him. It made him laugh. What a weak, weak human. The form in front of him began to stir.

He started walking toward the young man. "Get up."

The boy did as he was told, his glasses askew on his nose.

He hit him, hard, with a balled fist. Worthless. Easy.

He heard the boy scream in agony. He was almost finished. Finally, a kick in the stomach, with such impossible strength, the body collapsed. Blood cascading down a slope in the floor. Looking at it, into the warm wet liquid, it changed. Instead of a dark red, it morphed into a clear, blue river, and what he looked back at him was his own reflection. Long, crooked fingernails, his eyes red. A frighteningly vibrant red.

"No!" Harry awoke with a start.

Opening his door, he silently crept through the hall towards the bathroom. Once inside, he looked at his face, noticing, to his relief, everything was the same.

_I am still here, boy._

Harry fell back against the door in shock.

No. You. Are. Not.

_You can't get rid of me, boy._

Get. Out.

Please… He whispered

He struggled to push the intruding thoughts away.

For the first time in months, he really looked at himself. His skin, so pale. Who am I anymore? What is happening to me?

He couldn't handle it any longer, he had to look away.


	3. Bitter Tears

**A/N: Yay! Two updates in one day! I had this chapter ready before the second, so here you go, because I am just dying for more reviews, and maybe this will get you guys started! It gets better as it progresses, so stick with it! I promise! **

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"Bugger off! Get away from me! Out!"

"Harry! What... What's wrong?"

"Get out" he growled.

"You shouldn't be this mad Harry! All I did was ask..."

"I said SHUT UP!" Get the hell out of here Ron!" The door slammed shut with a thunderous rumble.

How dare he? The nerve, the bloody nerve of a jealous boy who thought he understood him. No one cared for him anymore. No one cared for Harry. Why should they. They thought everything was back to normal. Everything was OK again. As if.

They all thought he was improving. They didn't hear him scream in his sleep. He slept soundly, they thought. No. He didn't sleep. But they would never know. He kept to himself, talking on when was spoken to. Barely listening. Barely there. When given food, he would snatch bits of his meal and shove them into various nicks and crannies, or stuff them into a napkin, and in various situations, into his pockets, only to empty them into the trash bin at a later time. This had become a sort of ritual, a normalcy in his life, something that he did quite often.

Dark circles had begun to appear under his eyes, which contrasted with the pale skin he received from lack of sunlight. His hair was longer than usual, hanging below his eyes and over his ears.  
Yes, many of the residents saw these changes. Did they look into it? No. Did they notice his attitude, the way he didn't engage in conversations, didn't relish in the comfort of his friends? No. They left him alone. A part of him was grateful. But not grateful because they understand him. More grateful that they didn't, they were clueless, and that, that is what he relished in.

As he stood on the top of the stairs, he looked around, at the people laughing, joking, appreciating the company they had, and he sighed. Before, he would have been having fun with the rest of them. He would have obliged in anything to keep his mind off his future, his destiny, but now, now all he wanted to do was think. Just think. He had to come with an answer next time. He expected it, him. But he wouldn't have contact with him for a while. Because he, Harry, must sort out everything. He took a step forward, shortening the distance between himself and the others, but then he stopped, turned around, and walked back to his room.

--

I am a liar. A fake. But I need to be a liar, I must to be a fake. Keep quiet I say. Don't speak too much, don't speak so loud, and you will make it. Hush your mind; keep your thoughts together. Yes. I will succeed. I know the looks I receive. Hermione, the way she glances over, her brow scrunched up, the way I feign obliviousness. I know. Ron, as he tries to bring me into a game of chess, his grin that slips after the seventh time he asks me to play, but then pops back up again when a member of the household joins. I try to listen to their joyful banter, the conversations everyone has around me, but it gets harder every day. I plunge into various forms of coherence, mumbling a short answer when spoken to. I can't concentrate. Not on them.

--

Fingers run over his aching chest. The heart that beats under slowly pulses. The rhythmic thud of each pound breaks the silence of the night.

Thud. Thud.

The crashing of a single tear cascades down into the deep trench of the wooden floor. More follow their leader, dropping like rain. His weeps are silent, his sobs muffled by a hand.

I am..

I am..

I am sorry.

--

"Harry? Is that you?"

"Yes." She crossed the floor, her delicate fingertips tracing the edge of the table.

"Why are you up?" Concern soaked her words.

I choked back the words I wanted so dearly to say. "I couldn't sleep. You?"

She nodded. "The same." Guilt overwhelmed me, I swallowed, and trying to keep my voice from shaking, tried again at conversation as she sat down next to me.

"Bad dream?" It was the only thing I could come up with. It wasn't like I didn't know about that topic.

She was facing the kitchen, and shrugged at my question. "Somewhat." Turning back to me, she spoke again. "Yes."

I felt a pang in my heart. "Do you want.. To tell me about it?" She gave me a small smile. My insides melted. I ignored it.

"It was about.. Us."

My heart skipped a beat. "U.. Us?"

"Yes, us, all of us. You, me, Ron, the Order, everyone."

"Oh. What happened?"

"It was after the war."

"Yes."

"Things didn't turn out so well Harry." She sighed. "People were so.. So different."

"War can change people, Hermione."

"I know, but it was awful. We were all alone. No one spoke to anyone anymore. It was so dark." She wiped away a tear. "I'm scared."

"I am too, Hermione, I am too."

"We'll stay together, right Harry?" I gave her a small smile, the only thing I could.


	4. Another Day Colder

**A/N: **Please review! I would REALLY appreciate them. This chapter jumps a few in time. Just a few.  
Review Review Review! I take critisism well! Don't hold back if it is constructive.  
**A/N (Jun21): **What will it take for you guys to REVIEW?? Please?? I even name each chapter! Isn't that cool? And I always thank you personally with each review! Yes, awesome right?

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"Don't forget to write dears!" A hopeful Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. With a nod and a grunt and a hug from the girls, the four children, three of which were of age, stepped onto the gleaming Hogwarts Express, clad in muggle clothing.

Sliding into an empty compartment, the trio, which that of young Ms. Weasley had escaped to sit with her 6th year friends, waited for yet another year to come.

Moments past, with the redhead flipping through a new addition of "Which Broomstick?" and Harry and Hermione sitting opposite him, both deep in thought. Soon there was the sound of the compartment door sliding open, revealing two fellow students, Luna, bearing once again her radish earrings, and Neville, who looked to have slimmed down quite a bit since their last encounter. With a smile on their faces, but without the bliss of innocence they once held before, they sat down.

Harry kept his place pressed up against the end of the wall, farthest from the door, shunning out the words of his friends. Hermione sat next to him, resting aside him, shoulders touching, to reassure him she was there.

The five teenagers sat in a comfortable silence, someone occasionally starting up a new conversation, something light, like Quidditch, homework, and their summers. Ron talked of his vacation to his Great Aunt Muriel's house.

"I couldn't possibly find time to owl more, Harry, she'd been breathing down my neck since I got there!" he had explained heatedly.

Hermione told them about her parents forcing her to stay home and visit their dentist offices most weeks. "It's our last summer together before you graduate dear!" were the words her parents used repeatedly to get her to agree.

Harry knew his friends were worried about him, wondering what was going on in the messed-up mind of the boy-who-lived, but he wished beyond anything that they wouldn't. It made his heart hurt. His hand clutched his stomach to stop from gasping out loud, for breath, for the pain in his chest to end, to stop the throbbing, fearing it would eat its way through him, tear a hole in him, break him.

_Hello, again._

Harry awoke with a start, jumping to his feet.

The rest of his compartment companions stared at him with wide eyes.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered, worry evident in her eyes. "Harry, what is it?"

"Noth-Nothing..." his words trailing off in the end.

Now with his back turned away, he sat down and tried to regain composure, and became on guard as the voice had returned yet again.

What do you want?

_What is your plan?_

Harry lay quiet for a moment.

Just let me think for a while.

_This is taking too long!_

I must think about it.

_Hurry! I won't wait forever, boy!_

You mustn't rush me!

_Listen! We can help you! I can help you! I can help you get through this._

How can I trust you?

_How can you trust THEM? How can you trust them after what they have done to you? They left you to rot in that hell they call your home. They let you get beaten down, and down again and again. And what did they do to repay you? Nothing. Nothing!_

I know.

_And Dumbledore, he lied to you. He led you on, he made you believe you could do this. He got your hopes up, then he left you! He is unworthy! You c—_

I KNOW!

The Dark Lord was cut off from his thoughts, for now.

--

Nighttime. A blanket of blackness had enveloped itself over Hogwarts. Quiet. Refrained from the bickering students, commanding professors, and busy hallways; tranquil. One boy, one minuscule young man, lay awake. He, unlike his peers, could not fall into a wondrous dream of peace, serenity. The piercing eyes of the beholder shone with new found ineffectiveness. Where had the brilliance of these green eyes gone?

Morning rose with quick aggression. The redhead in the dormitory grumbled and muttered profanities under his breath as the sun shone through the windows. Stretching, he rolled over in his bed, only to fall to the floor in a heap of blankets. Once he untangled himself from his comforter, he stood up, and knocked on the bed next to him.

"Come on Harry, up.. Up." No voice replied. "Harry... Come on, I'm up, so you'd better have too. Hey! Harry! Hello! You there?" He opened the curtains, only to find the bed empty. Confused, he decided his friend must have been too hungry to wait, which was odd, because that was usually his thing to do.

"Morning Ron."

"Hey Neville, have you seen Harry? He's not in his bed."

"No, sorry." With that he left to the showers.

Reaching the Great Hall, after successfully landing his foot into the trick step on the stairs, since he was too busy looking around for any sign of his friend, Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table. Still no Harry. Once his plate was full of anything in reach, he started stuffing his face with random bits of food. The doors to the Hall swung open, and in walked Harry. He sat down next to Ron.

"Er oo o?" The mouthful of food was making his speech almost incomprehensible.

"Nowhere." The icy look on the bespectacled boy's face ended the conversation.

Soon, the door opened again, this time revealing the scowling face of Draco Molfoy. Ron could have sworn he made a glance toward the Gryffindor table, as though in search of someone. Shaking it off, he turned back to the table, to find Hermione sitting opposite him and Harry.

Finally, after the Headmistress' speech, food, and the loud chatter of the students had past, breakfast was finished.

The trio walked through the hallways, silently, while people around them stared openly. They were past the point of being ashamed. Harry walked in the front, briskly walking in a manner that showed he was in a hurry. For what? His friends didn't know. Ron and Hermione were 

behind, trying to keep up, with confusion etched onto their faces. Whispers sailed throughout the school.

Finally they reached their destination; the Gryffindor Common Room.

"What's with the rush, Harry?"

For a fleeting moment Ron thought his friend hadn't heard him and was about to ask again, when Harry chose to answer. "Nothing.. Just needed to get something.. From the dormitory."

"Oh, well what is it?"

"Something for.. Hagrid."

"You're visiting Hargrid? We'll all go!"

"No! Er.. No he asked that only I come. Sorry."

"Oh... Alright."

As he walked up the stairs toward his room, he couldn't stop himself from looking over at his brown-haired friend. As he tread the stairs, he sighed.

--

Days past, and still nothing had changed. There would be many mornings where Ron would wake up, and Harry wouldn't be there, only to turn up at breakfast. He tried confronting him many times, but to no avail.

Two weeks into school, the contents of Gryffindor's 7th year boys dormitory were asleep, or so one would think. Silently positioning himself with his feet on the floor, a shadow began stalking its way towards the door.

"Hello?" the muffled whisper of Ron spoke.

When he was given no response, he got up and this time spoke louder. "Hello? Is.. Is anyone there? Who is that? I'm turning on the light!"

With the glow of a lamp illuminating the room, one could make out a head of black.

"Harry?"

"Sorry Ron, go back to sleep."

"What are you doing up?"

"I'm.. I'm just going out to the Common Room."

"Should I come w--."

"No! I.. I mean, no Ron, go back to sleep, it's alright."

"OK, goodnight then."

"Night."

If Ron would have been in a mood of better coherence, he would have seen the silvery substance in his best friend's hand. The invisibility cloak. Why would Harry need that just to go down the stairs?

--

The halls of Hogwarts are eerie at night. Shadows dance across the walls, following you around every corner. The creaks of the floorboards reverberate in the tall walls, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You must make your feet light, your movements sharp, ready to spring into the darkness by intruding students and teachers. You must breathe with the flow of all these things. In.. Out.. In.. Out... One mistake can send you shattering, and you will get caught. Only those who become one with their surroundings, turning themselves into the objects around them, can make it. You hear the oncoming footsteps of a professor. You hold still, bending into the darkness. He passes you, nodding to the beat of an invisible source. Letting out the breath you didn't realize you were holding, you continue on your journey. Yes, your destination, you know exactly where it is. Your body knows where to go, which bend to take, which flight of stairs to climb. Finally, you reach it.

You walk across, then back, then repeat, thinking all the while what it is you need. A door appears, and you enter. You are not afraid.

Once inside, the young man is met with other shadows.

"Hello, Potter."


	5. Changing Destiny

**A/N: **Sorry for the wait. This chapter is all in 3rd POV. Enjoy. Please read and review!

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"Hello Malfoy."

"Do you have your share?"

"What do you think?"

"No need to be snippy Potter."

"Just take it, and do you have what is mine?"

Without a word, Draco handed his fellow trader the invisibility cloak.

"It came in handy Potter, very well."

--

"Good morning Hermione."

Walking over to him was his beloved best friend. "Morning Harry! How'd you sleep?"

"Alright I guess." This was a lie, he hadn't. They began walking out the Common Room.

"Where's Ron?" he asked as they were now nearing the Great Hall.

"I told him to go ahead; I could hear his stomach growling." He looked over at Hermione, and saw her grinning at him.

--

"Hermione? I.. I need to talk to you, alone."

"What is it Harry? Is something wrong?"

"I think I'm.. I--." He was cut short.

"Hermione! We need your advice on this! Come here!"

"Hold on Lavender!" She told her excited friend, and then turned to Harry. "Sorry about that, so what was it you wanted?"

"I.. Never mind. It wasn't.. It's not important."

"Are you sure? Well, then, I guess I'll go help the girls then."

She left, leaving behind a sad looking raven-haired man with a strange look in his eyes. _She's too busy_, he thought, _she has no time nor should she have to hear what I have to say. She can't help me. No one can. _

_--_

A month. A month it had been since the beginning of school. Two weeks since the exchange between Harry and Malfoy in the Room of Requirement. Not once did Harry try to talk to Hermione about his situation again. He was done. Growing more tense and alone as the days pass, the sky outside matched his mood. Oblivious to their surroundings, the students paid no heed to the growing danger.

--

It was easy, this fake pretense. Being there, with his body, but not truly, with his mind. It was like flying, and falling, but never hitting the ground. It is a rush to the head. Everyone who walked by him, they seemed to be going at an inhumanly speed, they were all but a blur.

--

"Come! Quickly!"

Two boys were quietly shuffling through the halls.

"Over here. Drink this."

The cool liquid burned his throat.

--

The students were partying to shake off the stress caused by the tests they had previous. In the Gryffindor Tower, music was blasting, and almost everyone was dancing. Hermione, rather disturbed by the extremeness of the sound rushing to her head, shuffled her way through the crowd toward Ron.

"Where's Harry?!" She had to yell over the music.

"Dunno! Go check over... there..." He pointed at a random spot in the crowd.

"Where is he?" the young bushy haired-brunette whispered. She sighed, deciding to give him a few minutes, and then would begin searching.

--

"Professor Snape? Is that you?"

"Ah yes, Professor McGonagall."

"I was just running young mister Creevey up to his dormitory, would you mind bringing this stack of papers to Professor Sprout? She needs them by tonight."

"By tonight? Of course."

Professor McGonagall and Colin set off up the stairs.

Outside, the old professor walked towards a bush. Kneeling down, he whispered into the tree. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked towards the gates surrounding Hogwarts, and next to him, appeared another fellow. Once they were past the gates, Snape began changing. He was becoming shorter, leaner, and now, before the other sir, stood a blonde-haired, Slytherin boy. Draco Malfoy. Throwing the stack of papers given to him by his headmistress to the mud, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy walked away. Away from Hogwarts. Away from their classes. Away from their mentors and peers. Away from their friends.

--

"Ron? Ron? I can't find Harry anywhere!"

"Oh come off it Hermione, I'm sure Harry is just fine."

"But Ron! I've looked in the Room of Requirement, his dormitory, the halls... Where could he possibly be?"

"Have you checked Hagrid's?"

"Hagrid's! That's brilliant Ron!"

"Sure, sure, now off you go, I'm trying to convince Seamus here that the Chudley Cannons are far better off than Puddlemere United."

--

They walked the halls; cold stone walls lined their way. Harry followed Malfoy as he led the way to _his_ office.

He knew, as they reached the door, that this was it; this was where his fate would change. He would not be the-boy-who-will-save-us to the wizarding world; he would be _that _boy_, the _boy who changed.

He watched as Draco reached for the doorknob, and inhaled the scent, the luxurious aroma of power, of control.

Harry knew, as he looked up at _him_, as he looked down and smiled, and when he said to him, through their minds, _welcome home_; this is where he belonged.

--

"Harry! Harry? Oh God no! Harry! Please!"

He didn't come back. She was screaming his name. Her lungs hurt. People around her were staring. Others were with her shouting his name. It had been a day since the party, a day since she had lost her best friend. He would not do this to her, if he were OK. If he were fine, he would know not to scare her like this.

--

He saw their faces of those he left. Of Ron, and Neville, Luna and Ginny, he saw the disappointed look of Mrs. Weasley, when she would hear of his choice. However, most importantly, he saw the shock, the sadness, the grief and disbelief of Hermione. He had to shake this feeling off. He could not, he would not, let them keep him back. They can't help him, they only hold him back from achieving what he knew he could.

He deserved this, this chance to prove himself. He was left, shunned into a darkness not unlike his own cellar. They thought of him as a child, he would show them he was not.


	6. Behind the Door

**A/N: I feel horrible for the long wait, so I'm giving you a sneak-peak at chapter 6. Please feel free to review with whatever you have got to say (don't hold back just because this is my first story!).  
****Thanks IHeartProngs**

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One month, three days, this had been my time here with Voldemort.

Throughout my stay, I had kept my distance, amidst the questioning looks of fellow followers as I walked past.

It was Tuesday.

--

I stood there, my wand lazily hung by my side. Shifting uncomfortably in a very uncompromising position on the wall, I waited. I did not know what they wanted; neither did I know whom I was waiting for, for that matter.

Cool air brushed against my arm, I turned to see a cloaked man standing in the doorway, motioning me forward.

Once inside, I was rushed into another, smaller corridor. I wanted to ask where he was taking me, to demand an answer, but from the look on his face, I remained silent.

Eventually we seemed to have reached an end, and he opened yet another door, leading into a much smaller, and much darker, dungeon.

I frowned. Why was I led here? There was nothing special about this place; no windows, lighting, or furniture.

It was then I saw him, leaning against the wall opposite me. Before any sound escaped my lips, I was hit with a curse and fell to the ground, screaming. Again, and again, he would force another round on me, and not before long I had a decent amount of blood pooling around my body. Struggling to move my arms to find my deserted wand, I realized I was too late, as it was in the pocket of my attacker.

I could have sworn I heard his laughter as he closed the door behind him.


End file.
